


My Darling Little Victor (My Darling Snarling Victor)

by ardett



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Gore, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 12:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5665891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardett/pseuds/ardett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finnick wonders how his clients can want him when they remember what he did in the Games. (He knows they want him <i>because</i> of what he did in the Games.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Darling Little Victor (My Darling Snarling Victor)

**Author's Note:**

> In other words, a short drabble paralleling glorified death and brutal murder.

There are many things Finnick knows about his clients. He knows how to please them, he knows when it’s too much or when he’s not doing enough. (He knows their secrets, so many that he can’t remember if he even knows them all anymore.) He knows what they see when they look at him.

At first, he thought they didn’t see him at all. Only parts of him; his cheekbones, his arms, his eyes, his hair, his chest, his voice, his collarbones. (Some parts aren’t him though, they’ve been modified, altered, changed by the Capitol to make him more perfect and less  _ him _ .) Everyone called him pretty,  _ beautiful,  _ in and out of closed doors. This he could accept.

Someone called him, “My little victor.”

_ My little victor. _

They remember. Of course they remember, of course they remember he killed other children (how could they forget, he can’t forget, he can’t forget, he can’t forget),  _ that’s why they want him. _

Because he killed eight other  _ desperate, desperate _ children.

And they think he’s  _ beautiful. _

They think death’s  _ beautiful. _

(Death? It’s murder, it’s killing,  _ it’s slaughter. _ )

They see him stab another boy, whose blood runs rivers down pale skin and pools in scarlet roses in sparkling sand. (Finnick feels cartilage crunch where his trident lands and flecks of blood splatter his ankles, warm as bile on his flesh. It looks watery as it seeps through the sand. It softens the ground beneath his feet and he’s struck with the fervent desire to cut off his own toes.)

They see him gloat over a body, trident stuck in the tribute’s chest like a flag claiming new land as he claims another victory. (Finnick waits  _ and waits and waits and waits _ for the cannon to sound, he can’t leave until he hears it, oh god, he can feel the girl’s heart beating  _ around _ the hole his weapon left, sending sickening pulses up the bloody shaft. He hears the cannon and wrenches his trident out right before he’s violently sick.)

They see the final tribute fall before him, a grand finale of violent vermillion and shining steel and glinting gold, a battle of the ages that leaves beautiful, young Finnick Odair the victor. (Finnick sees blood seep behind the other’s eyes before they close, turning the whites a cloudy pink. He watches his own veins and arteries pump watery sludge out of him, like his body wants him to die before the Capitol doctors can save him. He should have listened.)

He smiles and agrees, _ “Yes, I’m your little victor, my love, of course I killed them all for you.” _ And lets his heart bleed out between his organs.

It’d be too much to hope it’d kill him.

  
End.


End file.
